


Castles In The Air

by StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dragonlock, M/M, Sherlock is a Dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid/pseuds/StuffYouWatedToSayButNeverDid
Summary: John comes upon a creature, said to be extinct. An unlikely relationship builds. But this creature isn’t everything John believes it to be. He’s more.





	1. The White Dragon

 

 

Chapter 1

 

“Be back before nightfall, John!”

“Okay, Mum!”

John ran out along the weathered path from his family’s simple cottage and down into the forest. He ran until he took a right at a path that he had created among his many adventures off of the trail. When he could no longer see the main trail, he stopped, strapping in tighter on his makeshift breastplate and putting on his fathers old battle helmet that was far too big for him. It flopped around as he moved but John didn’t care, he was in battle mode.

John pulled out his wooden sword that his Mum had given him for his birthday two years prior. It was growing rather small as John continued to grow but he loved it all the same. John stalked forward quietly, his bare feet leaving little sound in its wake. He dodged around trees as if hiding from his enemy, having to adjust the helmet from falling over his eyes. This continued for some time before John saw fit that he was being attacked. He lunged and struck at the trees, crying out and growling at his foes. He was the fiercest warrior, like his father before him. He fought the savage beasts of Cathron, cutting off limbs left and right, making his way through to their king, Orthon.

John rose through the forest, coming into a clearing with a steady stream making many pathways through the green. He clambered up the small incline, jumping from rock to rock. “There’s no where to turn, Orthon! It’s just you and me!” He made it to the highest boulder and brought his sword in front of him, preparing to fight. He swung and cried, rolling on to the ground, jumping down the rocks as Orthon followed and tried to attack. John yelped as he slipped and fell into the water but quickly recovered and jabbed his sword up as Orthron tried to pounce on top of him.

His breath was laboured as he lay in the stream, pretending to push off the body of the beast and crawling back onto the shore. He wiped off the blood, dripping from his sword and placed it back in his belt loop. He flopped back on to a rock and let the warm sun soak into his cold skin, slowly drying his clothes. His mother would be upset that he dirtied his clothes again. He put aside the helmet and closed his eyes, being lulled by the warmth of the sun and the soft sound of the stream around him. Just as he was near sleep, John was startled awake by a terrible screech. He sat up, heart racing and picking up his helmet, pushed it on his head. He made his way down the rocks again, listening to the horrid noises just on the edge of the trees where the clearing ended. The brush shook and John moved towards it, sword clutched in his grasp. He stepped closer, a body’s length away when this invisible creature drew the most horrific noise of pain and John launched forward.

There was blood, a lot of it. John nearly dropped his sword in horror as he looked at the scene before him. Broken and dismantled wings, scales glittering the ground and in the middle of it all was a baby dragon. It was no bigger than John’s arm and it was curled up, whimpering in pain. Scratches and blood covered its white scales. John stood in shock, he had never seen a white dragon before, they were presumed to have been extinct ages ago. The dragon looked up from its placed sprawled on the ground, piercing eyes like blue gem turquoise with flecks of gold. The dragon gave a weak cry of protest, too tired to keep fighting.It tried to move back from John but let out a cry of pain. John knelt before the dragon, taking off his helmet, his sandy blonde hair flat against his head.

“It’s okay…I won’t hurt you.” He moved slowly as the dragon eyed him suspiciously. John reached out the rest of the way, the dragon sniffing at the air, centimetres from John’s fingers. The dragon hissed and tried to lash out at John, making the young boy jump and fall on to his backside. Exhausted after the exertion, the dragon tried to curl up, whimpering as the wounds continued to ooze. John sat up and tried again, “I just want to help…you’re bleeding. Please. Please, let me help.” He slowly reached out again, the dragon eyeing him warily but too exhausted to fight anymore. John carefully lifted the dragon into his arms, avoiding the wounds as best he could. “You’re heavier than I thought.” John brought the dragon over to the stream and tore apart the bottom of his trousers, washing and wrapping up the wounds with the upmost care. The white dragon was barely conscious but looked upon John as if he expected betrayal at any second.

“What’s your name, hmm?” He continued to work dutifully, his small hands working with precision and care. “I’m John. John, Watson. I live in Strix with my Mum…my father died. He was a warrior, fought in the Cathron war. I’m sure you know about that. You’re not from Cathron are you? I thought white dragons were…well. I’ve never met one before. What attacked you? I’m sorry I couldn’t stop whatever it was. Were you with friends? Or family? Where’s your family?”

The dragon closed his eyes, John’s heart racing, “Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’m sorry.” He frowned and finished tying up the wounds. “Do you have anywhere to go?” The dragon didn’t move, John’s heart sank as he realised the dragon had just lost everything. “Well, you can come home with me!” The dragon opened its eyes and gave John a look as if he was insane. “I’ll take care of you!”

The dragon tried to stand and collapsed back on to the ground. John took him back into his arms and collected his helmet. “At least stay until you’re better and then you can leave, okay? Whatever did this to you is still out there.” The dragon nearly huffed and conceded, curling up in John’s arms and closing his eyes again. John made his way back through the forest, the night already closing in. He knew his mother would not be happy with him.

 

The white dragon had been asleep throughout the walk back but started awake when they approached John’s cottage, his mother already crying out at him. “John! I was so worried! I told you to be back before nightfall!”

“I know Mum, I’m sorry-“

“What is that?”

“I found him, Mum. In the forest. Something attacked him. I had to help.”

“What did I tell you about bringing strays home, John Hamish Watson?”

“But, Mum! He’s a white dragon!”

“I don’t care if he was the last dragon on earth, I told you to stop bringing strange animals home!”

“Mum! Please! He lost everyone…his family…they’re gone.” John’s eyes watered, the pain this dragon felt was close to home for him. His mother could see the tears starting to well and she sighed.

“Very well. Let’s get him cleaned properly.” John sniffed and breathed back the tears that still threatened. He held the white dragon protectively as he brought him inside and started to show him around. The creature in his arms looked up at the boy, hardly paying attention to John’s tour. He didn’t understand the human. He was kind and gentle…he wanted to help, as if they were friends.

John cleaned up the dragon properly and bandaged him with his mothers help. He made a nest out of blankets and pillows on his bed and placed the dragon inside. John watched as the small creature tried to stay awake, looking at John as if he was everything in the entire world. John laid next to the dragon, smiling as he watched him fall asleep. John watched the dragon a while longer before his own eyes closed and he slipped into slumber.

***

 

There was a heavy weight on John when he woke up the next morning. His eyes fluttered open to investigate, only to stare in shock as the source of the weight turned out to be the white dragon he had rescued the night before. It’s wings were tucked in close, the tail wrapped around one of John’s legs and the head buried into his neck. John’s heart raced for a moment before he calmed down and watched the white dragon sleep. The only sign that the dragon was still asleep was the small rise of its body as it took in deep breaths. John had no idea when the dragon had decided to leave the nest.

He moved slowly, trying to move the dragon without waking him but it stirred nonetheless, its eyes opening slowly and looking down at John. It moved so quickly John could barely process it. The dragon was just as startled being so close to John and tried to take off across the room. Forgetting its wounds, the dragon cried out as it fell to the ground, off of John’s bed. “Wait! Stop!” John scrambled out of bed, nearly falling in a twist of sheets as he tried to calm the dragon down. The creature cried out and scattered across the floor, knocking over a chair as it slithered between the legs and up on to a table. John’s pursuit drove the dragon on as it knocked off a mug which clattered to the ground and shattered, startling the dragon even more. “Stop moving! It’s okay!” John tried to catch the dragon, earning an attempt at biting his hand and a hiss as the dragon jumped up on to a curtain and climbed to the very top. He curled up around the pole, looking down at John with rows of sharp teeth bared. A low rumbled escaped the dragon, warning John to stay away.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Remember me? I’m John. I found you in the forest. Please come down…you’re bleeding again.” He sighed and sank down on to his knees, hoping he would seem less threatening. The dragon watched him, his tail flickering against the curtain. His Mum would be angry when she returned from the market. There were claw marks and holes in the curtain, shattered mug pieces all over the floor, the chair was probably broken too. John waited for ten minutes, the dragon refused to move, glaring down at the boy menacingly. John sighed and stood, starting to clean up the mess as the dragon watched from his perch. When he was done cleaning, John looked up at the dragon, “I bet you’re hungry, hmm?” That didn’t make him move but John walked over to the kitchen and pulled out some fish that his Mum had cooked that morning before she left. John sat on the floor by the window, a plate of fish and bread in his lap, looking up at the dragon. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

The dragon growled at him, wanting the food desperately, its stomach aching for food. He tried to refuse but his instincts got the better of him. He started down the curtain again, it ripped loudly as he sank to the floor, tearing a huge hole in the fabric. He sniffed at the air, taking careful strides over to the boy. John stood stalk still as the dragon moved in closer, a hairbreadth away from the plate. The dragon watched him carefully, moving in as close as he dared before sinking its teeth into the fish and darting away, back into the nest on John’s bed. John sighed and got up, placing the plate on the table before going to sit on his bed. He was stopped by a vicious snarl from the dragon. “It’s my bed!” He protested and tried to sit again, the dragon snapping at him with his teeth. “You don’t own it!” John huffed and moved to sit on the floor instead. The dragon sat in its nest, chewing at the fish, watching John and making sure he stayed away.

The fish was gone in minutes, the dragon ravenously eating the entirety, even the bones. They crunched horribly and made John cringe with each bite. “I need to give you new bandages, will you let me?” John sat up on his knees, slowly reaching out. The dragon studied John again, deciding if he should trust him or not, he had no evidence as to why he shouldn’t. The dragon allowed John to pick him up and carry him over to a basin where he removed the bandages before cleaning the wounds and applying new ones. John was gentle and careful not to hurt the creature, before either of them realised, the dragon started to almost purr in delight. He nudged up into John’s hand, climbing up the boys arm and encircling himself upon John’s shoulders. He buried his cold scaly face into John’s neck which made him shiver.

“What’s your name then? Maybe I can guess?” John started to clean up the bandages as the dragon purred out happily against his neck. “Is it…Snow?” The dragon growled and smacked his tail against John’s cheek. “Ow! Sorry! Not snow. How about Diamond?” The tail smacked him again, “Oi! Stop it! I’m just trying to figure out what to call you.” The dragon huffed and clambered off of John’s shoulders, landing ungracefully onto the floor. He wandered around looking for something before he jumped up on to the table and pushed a book at John with a claw. John came over and opened the book, “What about it?” The dragon glared at John and looked down at the pages, a single claw stabbing at an ’S.’

“S?” John frowned, watching as the dragon searched down at the page, “h…e…r…l. Your name is Sherl?” The dragon snarled and continued, “o…c…k…” The dragon sat back and looked expectantly up at John. “Sher…lock. Sherlock. Is that your name?” The dragon moved and climbed up John’s arm again to wrap around his shoulders. “Sherlock. It’s nice to meet you.” John stroked a hand down Sherlock’s tail and smiled as he buried his face in John’s neck and fell back asleep.

 

 


	2. How About Blue?

Chapter 2

 

Sherlock maintained an impressive façade but John wasn’t fooled. The dragon would pretend John’s presence was a nuisance and that he was capable of taking care of himself but during most waking hours, Sherlock was curled around John’s shoulders. They became inseparable after their first day together and while John now had a friend he finally felt close to, he knew that Sherlock was still in danger. He had heard stories of the Dragon hunters that had ripped them from homes, killing and maiming for their precious scales and Sherlock was rare.

John pulled out his worn books on Dragon lore that he had read cover to cover many times. He skimmed through, looking for the passage on White Dragons. Sherlock was sitting on the window ledge, watching the outside world that John feared to take him out in to. Sherlock’s scales reflected the sun, sending dazzling multi-coloured beams across the room. His tail flicked lazily and his ears twitched with every sound they picked up. It was his favourite spot, save for John’s shoulders.

John paused as he came across the passage he had been looking for. “White Dragons were once the most valued of their species as they have the ability to change colour at will. Their magical qualities are far superior to any other species and it is said that they ruled over all other dragons. Their numbers diminished dramatically in recent years to the point that they are believed to be extinct. Dragonologists believe that they are simply hiding among the others but hunters have found their weakness to be at the time of birth. White Dragons are not able to change colour until they have matured but with so little evidence, it is unclear of when this occurs. They are said to hold many other abilities such as morphing, which could attribute to their sudden disappearance.”

John looked up from his book to glance at Sherlock but he was no longer sitting at the window. John put aside his book and pushed back his chair, “Sherlock? Where are you?” Their cottage was small, so small that he could see through the entirety from his vantage point but he didn’t see the dragon anywhere. His heart started to race, a cold trickle of fear coursed through him, “Sherlock!” He threw off the covers on his bed, opened cabinets and drawers frantically. He was about to run outside to check if he had escaped somehow when he heard a slight jingle above him. He looked up and found Sherlock wrapped around the lamp that hung from the ceiling. He was watching John’s every move like he was prey, his wings spread and fluttering.

John sighed and rubbed his hands down his face, collecting himself before putting on his ‘I’m Angry Face.’ He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at the creature, “Sherlock! Get down right now! If you break that Mum will kill me!” The dragon looked back at John almost with a smirk in his features. He was playing and having a grand time while John nearly had a panic attack. “Now, Sherlock! Or no fish tonight.” Sherlock’s ears went back against his head and he hissed in anger, re-positioning himself so that the lamp wobbled and creaked at his weight. “Stop moving! Okay…Okay fine you can have fish, just come down, please!” John glanced worriedly at the door, knowing his Mum would be home soon. “Sherlock-“

The door opened and John turned around to see his Mum looking around at the mess, “John Hamish Watson! What in God’s name!”

“I’m sorry Mum, I couldn’t find Sherlock and-“

John flinched as there was a crash behind him and Sherlock snaked up John’s body and to his shoulders where he hid his face in John’s neck. He knew without turning that the lamp was broken and his Mum was furious.

 

***

 

John grumbled as he pulled weeds in the garden behind their cottage. “This is your fault. You should be doing chores.” Sherlock pranced around the yard, thoroughly enjoying his time outside for the first time in a week. He rolled on to his back and rubbed into the dirt, letting out content little yips. “At least one of us is having fun.” John continued on with his task as Sherlock explored within eye sight. He felt bad having kept the dragon in for so long but now that he was healed, John figured he deserved the sunlight. He wondered if Sherlock thought about his family or the day he was attacked, if he even remembered what happened. Well, he would do everything in his power to protect him.

A butterfly fluttered over to the garden, a cream yellow that John couldn’t help but find beautiful. It landed on a stalk and then moved again to land on another before moving back out towards the grass. John watched in fascination as it began to rise higher but he wasn’t the only one watching. Sherlock was crouched into the taller grass, his eyes watching its every move. In a flash, the dragon launched itself up and clamped its teeth over the butterfly. John let out a gasp and got up, running over to him, “Sherlock, no! Let it go!” The dragon looked up and glared at John before he opened his mouth, the butterfly was safe and made some tentative flutters before it started moving. John sighed in relief and just as the butterfly took off, Sherlock clamped his teeth together and chewed spitefully before swallowing. John stared at the dragon in disgust and horror for a moment before slowly going back to his task.

Of course, Sherlock thought it was hilarious and while John continued his chores, Sherlock would catch anything in his path. He would present them to John before eating them and it made the boy sick to his stomach. This became his favourite game every time they ventured outside of the cottage. When it became birds and rabbits instead of small rodents and bugs, John had enough of the game. Sherlock grew quickly from the small dragon that could sit on his shoulders, to one that reached to John’s hips. He easily took up the majority of John’s bed but they somehow made it work. They didn’t have much money and his Mum was always out working while he did the chores but they made it work and Sherlock fit in easily with their small family. His Mum even came around within time and John would often hear her speaking to Sherlock as she got ready in the morning. Sherlock was so loved.

 

***

 

When John was twelve, Sherlock had been with them for two years and had grown well up to John’s shoulders. John had grown as well, making Sherlock’s growth rate alarming for such a small cottage. He looked forward every day to being let outside so he could stretch his wings and have enough space to roam. The bigger he grew, the more irritable he was, being so cramped for the majority of the day. John apologised constantly but it just wasn’t safe for Sherlock to be out by himself. Especially since he didn’t know how to fly yet. John tried encouraging him, simulating flying as he jumped down from boulders with his arms out but the dragon steadfastly refused. He would leap down beside John and wait to be guided again. “No, Sherlock. You’re supposed to flap your wings, like this.” He moved his arms rapidly up and down, the dragon turned and climbed up the boulder before disappearing to the other side. “Sherlock?” John climbed up only to see the dragon immersing himself in the stream on the other side, his jaws working loudly as he chewed on a fish he had caught. John laughed and sat, watching him happily eat his catch.

There were voices off in the distance and John froze, fear coursing swiftly through him. No one knew about Sherlock and he couldn’t be seen. Sherlock’s ears picked up at the sound and he growled lowly, coming up to stand in front of John. “No, Sherlock! You have to hide!” John pushed at the unmoving dragon, his fear growing as the voices came closer. “Please! Run! I’ll be fine!” Sherlock whimpered, his instincts telling him to protect John at all costs. “Sherlock, please!” With one final plead, Sherlock gave a final cry of distress before hurrying off into the tree line.

The voices broke into the clearing and John quickly slid into the water to pretend that he was busy. Three boys around John’s age came into view, laughing and shoving each other around. They stopped when they saw John, “Hey! Watson!”

John looked up and put on a fake smile, “Hey.” He picked up the bucket he had brought to catch their dinner in, pretending to be too busy to talk. “Sorry, can’t talk. Mum’s waiting on me.” John hurried off where Sherlock had run to, hearing the boys snicker about how weird he was. Not that John cared, he just wanted Sherlock to be safe. He looked around frantically, whispering his name. “Sherlock? Where are you?” He heard a rustle of leaves in the tree behind him and he turned to look up, only to find his dragon hidden at the top. John’s jaw fell open as he looked upon the green scales that covered the dragon, reflecting the tree tops around him. Sherlock climbed down, landing with a thud behind John and sniffing him all over to ensure he was not harmed before nuzzling under his neck. John sighed and stroked him lovingly.

With each stroke, his natural white came back and John marvelled at the sight. “You’re amazing, did you know that?” The dragon purred at the praise. “Can you do that again?” Sherlock concentrated and his scales slowly faded back to the green around them. John grinned and they set about back home. “How about blue?” Sherlock paused in his stride as his scales changed to the colour of the sky at twilight. They played this game all the way home, Sherlock purring with praise and prancing about, showing off his new skill. “Let’s go show Mum but this time, turn black!” He laughed as they went inside the cottage. “Hey Mum-“ a piecing scream echoed around them as John doubled in laughter, Sherlock’s eyes seemingly floating by themselves in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m absolutely obsessed with the concept of dragonlock but I don’t really have a story for this made up. I’m writing when I have ideas for it so if you have anything you wish to see done or any plot ideas, feel free to shout them out! I have a general idea but nothing set in stone. I hope you’re enjoying it though!


	3. Instincts

Chapter 3

John had left Sherlock at home as he went into town and gathered food from the market while his mother worked. He took care of everything around the house as she tried to make enough money to keep them afloat. It had been increasingly difficult after his father died, the war alone had made living a hardship for everyone in the village. But they made do. John carried a sack and a basket, lugging his haul back towards the cottage when he heard his name called, “John! John, wait up!” A dirty brown haired boy ran up to him with a grin plastered on his face. 

“Oh, hi Mike.”   
“John! I haven’t seen you in ages!”  
“Yeah, I’ve had to stay and help my Mum…my father…anyway.” An awkward silence sat between them for a moment before Mike perked up again.  
“Are you going home?  
“Yeah,” he gestured to the basket, “I’ve got to get supper going.”  
“Mind if I walk with you?”  
“Guess not.” 

They began the trek back to John’s cottage, Mike rambling away about the friends that they once had in common that John hadn’t seen in ages. He had consumed all of his time with Sherlock and keeping the cottage upright that he had forgotten everything else. 

Sherlock had been lounging around the cottage, waiting for John to return when he heard an unfamiliar voice and two sets of footsteps in the distance. One tread was familiar, John, he would know it anywhere but the other was foreign and fear rippled through his body. A low growl emitted deep from within, his ears flattening against his skull. His tail whipped as he stalked towards the front door, pushing at it with his head to see if it was indeed locked. The new voice grew closer, Sherlocks tension rose higher, claws digging into the floor. He could hear John encouraging the other to leave but the intruder continued to talk on, unaware that a very protective dragon was not far away. 

“Look, Mike, thanks for coming with me but I’ve got to go.”  
“I didn’t finish telling you about Phillip!”  
“I know but I’m really behind…we’ll catch up later-“ There was a loud screech and John’s blood ran cold.  
“What was that?” Mike’s eyes widened. “It sounded like…”  
“Probably just a bird or something, I’ll see you later!”

John walked as fast as he could until he got out of sight and then ran as best as he could with his haul. He ran up to the cottage and froze, the contents he held, falling to the ground with a thud. The door was open, claw marks down the door as if there were a struggle.  
“Sherlock!” He ran inside, finding it empty and circled the entirety of the cottage, not seeing a sign of the dragon. “Sherlock, where are you!” Every fear he had coursed through his mind. Then there was a scream. “Oh, God.” He ran back to the path he came from, where he had left Mike only to find him pinned beneath the impressive expanse of the white dragon. Sherlock’s teeth were bared, growling dangerously, threatening to do harm. “Sherlock! Stop!” John had never seen him like this, his wings spread, claws sharp and deadly as he prepared to strike. “Sherlock!” John ran up to the dragon and moved in front of him, holding out his arms to grab his attention. “Look! I’m fine, I’m not hurt. Mike’s a friend, okay? He’s not dangerous!” Sherlocks predatory look was new to John and he would be lying if he said he didn’t fear it. Sherlock was powerful, he could kill so easily…but he wouldn’t, would he?  
It took a few moments of Sherlock analysing John’s physical health before he slowly backed off from Mike who still stayed petrified on the ground. John moved and stroked a hand down Sherlocks snout, soothing him and speaking softly. Sherlocks body slithered around his, tail encompassing Johns legs and wings wrapping around his body, his eyes still warily pointed at Mike. Soft growls rumbled out of his throat every so often, John following with a stroke and a soft hush.   
Mike slowly sat up, shaking with fear. “J-John…w-what…”  
“He won’t hurt you, it’s okay.” Mike glanced warily at Sherlock who narrowed his eyes, daring the boy to try anything.   
“H-He’s a…a…”  
“A dragon? Yeah. Um…Mike, this is Sherlock. I’m sorry about that he uh, usually doesn’t act like-“  
“Like a dragon?”   
“Well…” Ever so slowly, Mike slowly stood and took a step back. “Look, Mike, I’d really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about this, it’s for his protection.”  
“HIS protection?” He asked incredulously. “He’s a dragon!”  
“He’s a white dragon, Mike. You know how rare they are. If hunters find out that he’s here…they’ll kill him. I won’t let that happen.” John protectively wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck.   
“You’ve been hiding him out here all this time?”  
“I found him. He was barely alive and I nursed him back to health.”  
“John…you realise how crazy this is, right?”  
“Yeah,” John chuckled and ran a hand down Sherlock’s neck, keeping him calm, a soft purr rumbled from the dragon but his eyes were still narrowed at Mike. “Please, Mike. He’s family.”  
Mike watched both of them for a moment, how possessive each were of the other and he had no doubt that they would defend one another until death. There was a bond there and he wouldn’t be the one to break it.  
“I won’t tell anyone. Promise. But how do you plan to keep a full grown dragon hidden? He’s going to get bigger.”  
“I don’t know,” John sighed, “I’ll figure out something. Sorry about all of that…”  
“It’s fine…um, I’ll see you later, John. S-Sherlock…” He looked at the dragon one last time who let out a growl and urged Mike to scamper away quickly. John smacked him playfully.   
“Cut it out you mangey bugger. Mum’s going to kill you for what you did to the door.” Sherlock untangled himself from John and the walked back side by side to the cottage. 

***  
Sherlock continued to grow to the point where it became impossible to keep him indoors. He couldn’t move a limb without knocking over something and John’s Mum regretfully had to tell John to have him sleep outside. That gave John a whole new set of fears as he couldn’t keep an eye on him at night and who knew what was out in the woods that could harm him. On the other hand, Sherlock didn’t mind as he could keep a constant eye on the cottage and monitor their surroundings for any potential threat but he did miss John in the quite hours of night. He itched to nuzzle into his neck, to smell his scent and hear his heart beat. The separation at night lead to Sherlock being far more clingy in the day time. It became harder for John to get his chores done as Sherlock always had to have contact with him in some form.  
The night was a restless experience for Sherlock. He could feel the seasons changing, the colder months soon looming over them. His instinct drove him to build a shelter and he dug himself a hole, selecting specific rocks that appealed to him and placing them inside. He dug himself a hole big enough that he could curl up and be able to have a small window to the cottage amongst the surrounding trees. John didn’t find his hideaway until a month after he had begun and stared at it in surprise.   
“Sherlock? What’s this? You dug a giant bloody hole in the yard!”  
Exasperated, Sherlock demonstrated by heating the rocks as fire spit from his throat and curling up on them with a contented sigh. John gaped at him.   
“Since when can you do that?!” Sherlock just blinked at him as if he was bored of the question and crawled back out. “Right…well. C’mon let’s go check the traps.” It was a routine of their every day, Sherlock would follow John through the forest where he set his traps and Sherlock would delight in making John laugh as he changed the colours of his scales or pranced around through the brush. It was his favourite sound in the entire world.   
They were at the furthest trap when a screech was heard from the distance. Sherlock froze instantly and looked towards the sky, his nostrils flaring and his haunches rising. “What is it?” John frowned, looking around warily. He pulled out his dagger from his belt and unconsciously moved closer to Sherlocks side. A few more terrible roars echoed around them and Sherlock enclosed John in a wing, sinking as far down into the ground as he could, scales blending into the greenery around them. He was eerily still and John waited with bated breath. The sounds grew closer, Sherlock tensed and a shadow grew across the sky as a dragon, larger than Sherlock beat across the tops of the trees. It was various reds and streaks of black, horns and jagged scales. Nothing like Sherlock. The white dragon watched it, calculating, as it continued on off into the distance.  
“Where…Where did it come from?” John whispered, slowly coming to a stand. Sherlock stared at the point where it disappeared from view, wary of his own kind. He growled to himself before pushing John with his muzzle to continue back to the cottage. Sherlock was on high alert as they walked back. John could feel the tension beside him, anxiety pooling in his gut. If Sherlock was afraid, John could only imagine what was in store.


End file.
